


and how the sky gets heavy when you are underneath it

by mathilde



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, OH GOD WHY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathilde/pseuds/mathilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is wrong, wrong, wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and how the sky gets heavy when you are underneath it

**Author's Note:**

> wow i don't even know what this is. 
> 
> title taken from rylan lewis' remix of otherside (feat. fences).

 

Here is like nowhere he has ever seen. Here is everything he's ever dreamt of, minus the ashes and the corpses and the graves. 

Here is not where he should be.

Stiles' hand is in his―a casual gesture, if he judges by the non-reactions of everyone around them―and it feels normal here, to do that. To display such affection, for everyone to see. Erica laughs at something Jackson says, and his mom ruffles his hair, and he can see that Jackson's pleased, even though his hair's messed up, now. Peter―Peter's in the living with Magdalene, his wife, and they're not so much reading as they're cuddling. 

Scott's out with Allison, again, but no one's annoyed that he's skipping family night. Tonight is the Night, he's bought the ring, and Stiles has been prepping him for weeks. There's excitement in the air, and a little bit of nervousness, too, because everyone has seen this coming from  _miles_ away, but now―now they have to wait. 

Derek wonders how everyone he's turned is  _here_ , along with his family. He wonders if his choice for Betas was what his father's would have been. 

And Laura's―

Laura's breathing. Oh, Laura.

Here is _wrong_ ; his mind screams the word at the top of its lungs―Derek's wolf lunges forward, trying to claw its way out, because it knows how wrong this is, this all is. Wrong, wrong, wrong, this is wrong, wrong, wrong.

 

* * *

 

 Derek wants to whisper the word against Stiles' thigh, when they're in his bed that night―but then Stiles arches his back and moans, and oh,  _god,_ wrong doesn't come even close to describing what all of this is. 

 

* * *

 

They used to go to the coffee shop next to the town's only library―and if they were lucky, mrs. Bryan would be working and they'd get 50% off their sandwiches and coffee. Laura would take her laptop out and he'd read Dumas, or Zola, because reading about mythology was getting a little old, at that point, and human nature fascinated him more, anyway.

Derek hopes they still do that, here. He hasn't finished  _Germinal_ , not after all these years, because it'd felt too weird reading it without Laura around, and the strong smell of coffee in his nose. 

 

* * *

 

His mom doesn't say anything about the sudden hugging. Neither does his father, but Derek doesn't miss the look they give one another every time he says goodbye. It makes him want to get out and run, run, run away, because what kind of son is he, if his own parents are unsettled by a hug? 

 

* * *

 

 Scott still has an uneven jaw―but he's sporting stubble, now, and it's oddly adorable. His eyes shine bright, and he smiles a lot, too. But Derek can't quite adjust to the easiness of their relationship  _here_ ; it's impossible to do so when he's spent the better part of their years of acquaintance trying to get Scott to submit to him, then  _trust_ him.

He can't forget that Scott's betrayed him, either―and it's  _wrong, wrong, wrong,_  again; the never-ending mantra that's become a part of him, now.  

_You and me, we're brothers, now._

When has this stopped being what he's always wanted? 

 

* * *

 

 _"_ _I dreamed everyone around me was dead."_

_"Jesus, Derek. C'mere."_

_"It felt so real." Sobs bubble up in his throat. "I thought it was real."_

_Stiles wraps an arm around his waist and scoots closer._

_"It's okay. It's over," he mumbles, drifting off to sleep, already. "Love you."_

_And his wolf howls again, the word_ wrong _dancing in the back of his head, waiting for the right time to break him._

* * *

 

Allison keeps her last name, because she will always be an Argent; human, and bright, and beautiful. Stiles tells Derek he'll keep his last name, too, when they marry, because Stiles Hale sounds fucking terrible. Derek's heart flutters and his hands get clammy, because Stiles mentions marriage ( _wrong_ ) casually, like he  _knows for a fact_ that it's going to happen; that they have the rest of their lives to plan it and actually do it. And that's just it, isn't it? Derek can't know for sure when he will leave  _here_ ―or worse, when it'll be taken away from him.

Derek doesn't know when he will have to go back to his world of fire and ashes, but he doesn't want to think about it. 

 

* * *

 

He stops counting when days turn into months, which turn into years. It's still wrong, though. Derek doesn't think it will never not be. It eats him alive; it's guilt and something more, something worse, and it runs through his veins like fire (hah) on a trail of gasoline. It never stops. It never _stops._    _  
_

* * *

 

It takes him a while to forget Kate Argent's name―not what she did, he can never forget what she did, but  _fuck_ , what's her name, again?

It takes him even longer to forget he's not from here, even though he never loses the impression that he's an outsider. Stiles sighs and holds him close, but it doesn't make the feeling go away. 

 

* * *

 

They've aged well―of course they have. His mom has crows' feet that appear when she narrows her eyes in suspicion, and his father's beard is more white than brown. Jackson's grown into a respectable man; something only Derek's father could've managed. There's no explanation to it. Erica's still beautiful, but her heels are shorter, and skirts become sweatpants as she spends her days writing her thesis,  _Undiagnosing and Untreating Psychogenic Non Epileptic Seizures._ Stiles outgrows the buzzcut and lets Derek run his hands through his hair when he sucks him off.

 Mid-twenties gives in to early thirties―a little earlier for Derek, but the rest of them follow closely enough. 

 

* * *

 

Kate McCall coos for the first time at 12:45 am in her godfather's arm. Scott is beaming and Allison is exhausted, but she smiles proudly, and Derek does his goddamn best to stamp down his urge to run out of the room. Stiles smirks, like he knows what Derek is thinking―but he doesn't. None of them do. None of them  _know_ what Kate means, or what it used to. None of them know how her name makes his heart skip a beat, how it sends shivers down his spine. 

They don't know Derek doesn't remember why the name _Kate_ gets him worked up, and that it makes him want to throw up.  _  
_

* * *

_"It's not right."_

_"Don't you dare."_

_"I just―I'm not supposed to be here."_

_"You've got everything, here! What's wrong with that?"_

_It's just wrong._

**Author's Note:**

> OH WOW I DON'T EVEN KNOW. i used [this thesis](http://theses.gla.ac.uk/2710/) for erica's thesis yes. also you can find me on tumblr via [mathildus](http://www.mathildus.tumblr.com).


End file.
